Of Bunnies and Brides
by Klaudee
Summary: AUO SPOILERS! "And I ate fucking radishes all month to fit into this monstrosity. All month!" She shouted the last part at him. "I don't even like radishes." She said in a small voice, sniffling every now and then. Pietro suppressed a smile at her. "Radishes are a menace." Pietro/OC
1. Chapter 1

AUO SPOILERS!

.

.

.

To Pietro, everyone and everything was slow. All passed so slowly. Nothing could caught him of guard, he saw it coming before anyone else.

People were slow. The wind lost its charm. Time was a road that he was walking on with a speed that he chose.

It didn't bother him. Not really. He got a kick out of people's inability to react to his quips and remarks, leaving them gaping at his speed. The second the words left their mouth, Pietro was already replying snarkily chuckling at them. The downside was that he quickly grew bored with them. They lost their charm and let's face it, Pietro was far too flighty and ill-tempered to wait for them to catch up.

Yet there was one moment that made him stumble for an answer.

Pietro knew his way around words. That's why it came to him as such a shock when he found himself trying to come up with an answer to a question that came from a blubbering bride in white sprawled on a floor in front of him.

"Does this dress make me look fat?"

It was his first official mission after Sokovia as an Avenger.

It pissed him of that others thought he should take it easy and assigned him to a mission that was created for level 1 agents, designed that nothing could go wrong. He would have appreciated their fussing over him, as he did for maybe an hour after he woke up, but it quickly grew old and he was annoyed by it. Wanda was, of course, the worst, it seemed like she forgot he had extremely fast metabolism that helped him to heal fast. Next was Barton, who felt indebted to him. Though he knew better than to hover behind his back all the time, air vents apparently didn't count.

And now he was undercover at a wedding with Romanoff.

So course it was going to screw up like this.

The short silence was all that the bride needed.

"Oh I see how it is." She sniffled, wiping her nose with her hand. At this gesture Pietro made a face. "I know it does. No need to sugar-coat things. At least it is that ASSHOLE'S FAULT!" She screamed at closed door, mascara running down her face.

"I wanted a pretty dress, with a bow in the back and soft floating cover, cinched at waist with a sweetheart neckline." The bride tore tissue in her hands to small bits and pieces. Pietro looked over her current dress, noticing that her description was the exact opposite of what she was wearing. "But no, he had to choose the gown. You know who does that?" She asked him, raising her teary eyes at where he stood unmoving, observing her with a curious expression on her face.

"An asshat that decides the last minute at the altar that he doesn't want to marry me and now I have to suffer through the celebration even though I'm not married." The last words were followed by a large sob as she buried her face in her hands.

Pietro cringed at the blubbering mess of a woman. He didn't mean go into a room with a hysteric bride. He was slowly growing restless after walking from one end of the hall to another, needing to let out steam and run. It was proving to be a boring mission acting as a mobile escape plan to Romanoff, who sauntered off to seduce information from some poor guy.

"And I ate fucking radishes all month to fit into this monstrosity. All month!" She shouted the last part at him. "I don't even _like_ radishes." She said in a small voice, sniffling every now and then.

Pietro suppressed a smile at her. He moved across the fancy room, sitting in a huge chair that would have swallowed his frame, if he wasn't muscular.

"Radishes are a menace." He agreed with her quietly in English with heavy Sokovian accent.

She looked at him with surprise etched on her face.

"Ah, so the silver haired tuxedo speaks after all." She said before reaching behind her frilly dress and bringing a bottle of champagne to her lips.

"I don't know how I could have been that stupid and not see that coming." She complained after taking a swig from the bottle. "There were signs all over. Like once we were on a walk in forest, cause he wanted to go even though I have a pollen allergy. But I did. And it was after it rained so there were snails all over the path and I picked them most of them up and put them back into the grass so that they would not get crushed. And then I saw another one that was already dead and looked like a bad ramen noodles and it made me sad because I imagined in my head that they were heading to a family meeting after not seeing each other for a year." She paused, lifting the bottle to her lips once more and taking a hearty gulp.

Pietro watched her with an amused expression on his face, leaning forward in his chair.

"That's cute." He told her, looking at her blossoming blush with satisfaction.

"That's what he should have said. And yet he told me that it was really weird, that it creeped him out and that I should stop saying nonsense like that."

"And what about the others?" He asked her propping his chin in his hand.

The almost-bride frowned. "Others?" She asked confused, raising her blue eyes at him.

"The other snails that you didn't put to safety." He explained, snickering as she sneezed. Pietro realized that she had full on blossoming flower headband in her made hair that probably triggered her allergy.

"Well." She hesitated before continuing. "There was too much of them and I didn't want to bend down to pick every single one of them, I'm too lazy for that, so I let them at mercy of fate and thought it could be like in Hunger Games." She sneezed once more and drank form the bottle again. Though Pietro didn't have a clue what Hunger Games was, he didn't give a rat's ass about it now.

A moment of silence settled over them.

Pietro realized surprised that he managed to stay in the room with her for so long without feeling the need to disappear quickly. It happened very rarely. People amused him for only so long, but this girl was something different. But it could be on an account of the fact that her groom left her at the altar and that she was on a good way to get very drunk.

"You're so pretty." Pietro jumped back in the chair startled by the sudden proximity of the woman. She was staring into his face, a mere inches were separating them. He now had a very close view of her black cheeks, red eyes and messy lipstick. Her made-up hair was falling apart, tumbling down her neck in a mess of curls and flowers.

He watched without moving as she lifted a hand and drew it closer to his face.

"Boop." She whispered and touched his nose with a fingertip.

"Careful there, I might bite." He warned her with a roguish smirk.

Her eyes widened. "Ohh.. " She let out. Squinting her eyes, her hand found its way to his silver hair that was falling into his forehead. "You look like a bunny." She told him endearingly.

Pietro smirked, noticing how her pupils were dilated and her cheeks flushed. That bottle of champagne was quickly making its way into her head it seemed. "A bunny that bites?" He asked her, without leaning away from her hands. It's been way too long since someone played with his hair.

The bride pouted, making her lips fuller thinking about an answer.

"Well…" She contemplated, wiggling hands deeper into his hair. "Maybe you have rabies."

Pietro let out a laugh. "A rabies?" Feeling bold, he leaned into her face, their noses almost touching. "I hope you are immune then, cause sweetheart, I am in the mood to bite into something."

A loud sound of stomach rumbling could be heard in the room.

The bride blushed and retracted hands from his hair, wrapping them around her stomach. "I want a cake." She mumbled angrily under her breath.

"I think I could do something about that." Pietro told her standing up with the goal in his mind to steal the wedding cake, trying to shake of the feeling of her hands in his hair, when a voice came through the comm in his ear.

"Maximoff, we have a situation here. Meet me in the main hallway." Romanoff ordered and the comm grew quiet.

Pietro stood up sighing, opened the door without a word and stepped into corridor. He shut the door, but not before sending a wink to the bride that giggled happily at him, waving at him with an empty champagne bottle that appeared in her hand.

A second later he was leaning on a wall, next to Romanoff. The red headed assassin gave him an unimpressed face when his arrival blew hair into her eyes.

"Easy there, hot shot." Natasha said. "I'm in middle of processing the target. That moron would talk to anything that has breasts and that serum is just helping. He let the fact that the safe is here slip. He boasted about how it was going to make him filthy rich tomorrow morning when the trade is supposed to happen. We have to get hands of the device now or it will be too late." Pietro nodded at her, tugging on his bow tie. That damn thing was bugging the hell out of him.

"What now?" He asked her quietly as a waiter carrying a tray with gold rimmed flutes passed by. Pietro scoffed on the inside at the blatant display of wealth. Thank God that Stark had Pepper or Pietro would not be able to stay in the tower for very long.

"Create a commotion and get the civilians out. The safe is rigged and there are guard on this and also surrounding floors. We don't want this to get ugly. You get them out and I'll take care of our target." Natasha instructed, watching irritated as Pietro was bobbing head to an ABBA song that was playing through a stereo located above them.. "We are going to need possible back up guys. Be ready in 20. On my call." She murmured into the ear piece as she disappeared around the corner.

Pietro didn't waste a second and darted into the main hall that was full of people in tuxedos and heavy flashy gowns. With a quick look around the room, he spotted an older man smoking a cigarette. With a smirk and a second later, the man was now without said cigarette and Pietro after wafting smoke into smoke detectors, yelling in the most obnoxious voice he could muster up.

"Oh my god, fire!" He thought those people must have been deaf to not to hear the barely held in laugh and the poorly hidden accent, but they all stopped and then started rushing to the exit.

"This way ladies and gentleman." Pietro told the crowd as the women were skittering around him in high heels and gentlemen were hurrying to get out of the hall. The moment the sprinklers set in, all the people grew another set of legs and started rushing from the grand hall, leaving behind a mess of running champagne and smashed canapé. What a shame, he was getting hungry.

After the last person left the hall, Pietro closed the heavy door after him.

A set of heels clicking on the marble floor and another pair of shoes stumbling reached his ears. Turning around and tugging that bow tie from his neck, he saw Natasha with narrowed eyes and a smaller man with round belly and receding hairline that came to stop in the middle of the room.

"You ruined my hair." She told him coldly. Pietro gave her red wed tresses that were starting to stick to her forehead and curl a bland look. The Widow sighed. "Is everyone out?" She asked him.

"Done as instructed." Pietro said, wrapping the bow tie around his wrist. It look a lot better there than on his neck. That thing was suffocating him anyway.

"We have about a minute till the guards on this floor get here." With that said, the trio crossed the hall and entered into a hidden room behind a large painting that depicted a historical battlefield.

When the man was punching in the code and doing retinal scan, Pietro gave Natasha a strange look. "I may have not watched a lot of movies, but isn't this a bit stereotypical?" He asked her, crossing his muscled arms in front of his chest, his tuxedo straining at the move.

Natasha shrugged a shoulder at his observation, keeping her eyes at the man. "Be glad for that. At least it's easy. Still you first mission, remember? There shouldn't be much-", Natasha stopped herself there, firing over his shoulder. Pietro casually turned around watching a guard in black slumping to the floor. "- that could get screwed. Take care of the rest in hall." She told him, turning back to the man that was staring dumbly at the now opened door of the safe.

Pietro smirked and barely got the chance to whistle a song that got stuck in his head about some mamma mia, when he stopped in the middle of the hall to watch 5 guards slumped on the floor in various positions. He would have been probably grumpy by now at this mission, that was turning to be childishly easy, but surprisingly he was having fun.

"I though you said you didn't bite." A voice said from his right.

Pietro looked in that direction and couldn't help himself but to chuckle at the sight. The bride that he thought he left in that room, the one that should have been away from this floor was looking at him with her head propped on the white table, with a joined plastic figure of a bride and groom next to her hand and a piece of cake in the other.

He sauntered slowly to her, watching as her grin grew. "That wasn't biting. But I can show you how it's done." He told her suggestively, leaning against the table opposite of her.

Swallowing cake in her mouth, she grabbed the nearest flute and chugged down the contents. "I want your rabies." She mumbled to him, before biting into cake again.

"Did you leave any for me?" He asked her, gesturing to her cake.

"Don't be greedy. There are still four stories of it left." She said giving him a look. "Would you mind terribly if I had your bunnies?" She asked him, pointing the plastic figures at his chest before giggling to herself.

"Enjoying yourself Maximoff?"

"It's hilarious, Romanoff." He said, turning on heel. Natasha stood there with a medium sized black box under her arm, a gun in her hand and pissed expression on her face. Her hair that was before put into a sleek bun, was now in a curly disarray. Pietro winced at the sight. He was so going to pay for that later.

"I thought I told you to get everyone of the floor." She told him with a raised brow, her eyes focused at the figure behind him.

Pietro turned to look as well. The bride was now dancing with the figurine to a different song, with hair loosely around her shoulder, now without the allergy inducing flowers.

"Yeah." He drawled out. "That didn't really work out." He told her sheepishly, rubbing back of his neck. "What about the target?"

"Taken care of. Currently knocked out cold under a table. Thanks to the serum, he won't remember a thing tomorrow."

Natasha jerked her head in the direction of the door. "We have to go, the guards from other floors are closing in. Take her with you." And with that, she started walking towards the exit.

Pietro in flash appeared behind the bride, sneaking his arms under her knees and around her shoulders, hoisting her up. "Better hold on sweetheart, we're going for a ride." He told her before jogging after Natasha. He wasn't going to risk running at full speed with an inebriated bride that just had more champagne and cake. He wasn't stupid.

The woman gave a joyful laugh, snuggling into his arms, reaching a hand that wasn't holding the figurine to tickle him under chin. Pietro flinched at the contact and the woman giggled in delight at finding a weak spot on him. They were at the emergency staircase, when she started mumbling something and making upset noises.

Pietro looked down at her, slightly alarmed. Straining his ears, he made out what she was saying.

"I'm 25, that's not old… Don't have to be 17 just to be dancing queen.. if they only knew that I could bust a mean dance if I wanted to… Do you think I am not young and sweet, bunny?" She asked that last part out loud. The question reached Natasha too, as she was holding the door open for them. She gave the woman a curious look, eyes trained at her face.

Pietro looked at Natasha helplessly but she just shrugged her shoulders.

"But I want to be young and sweet and have bunnies with you." The bride announced, crossing arms on her chest, without a care in the world that she was in Pietro's arms.

Natasha suddenly grasped the bride's wrist, counting silently. "Did she drink any champagne in the hall?" She asked him, releasing her wrist.

"Yes, why are you asking?" Pietro asked, giving her a strange look not knowing where she was heading with that question.

"Well, hotshot, I think it's _you_ who should get ready-"

"When I was six I farted in a bath and called myself Miss Rainbow, since it sounded like Miss Rimbaud anyway."

"- for a ride."

.

.

.

Yeah, it's not like finals are in a week and I am procrastinating now by writing two fics in one day. No problema.

Pietro shouldn't have died. I am in a serious denial right now, like with Phil after the first Avengers. And I am sure that we can bring him back.

As always, sorry for mistakes, reviews make me happy.

Bye, bye


	2. Chapter 2

"Are your eyelashes like for real?" Pietro had to angle head away from the bride's fingers that were close to poking his eye out.

They were in the new Avengers Centre in a lift with Romanoff, who despite the nonsense that was escaping the woman's mouth managed to keep a blank face.

"Cause when I had a prom, and I was planning on becoming the prom queen, I mean who else other than Bernice Eugenie Rimbaud-", she stopped herself at seeing Pietro's confused expression. "That's my name obviously. And so I wanted to go all the way, so I put on fake eyelashes."

"Take her to the medical." Romanoff told him, walking down a corridor without a leaving glance, leaving Pietro to the task.

"Are you even listening to me?" Bernice asked him annoyed, slapping at his chest with the plastic figurine.

Pietro rolled his eyes at her, pushing the button that would take them to the medical floor. "Never heard anything better."

She nodded firmly and continued. "Ok. So, something went wrong and I honestly don't know what, but the lashes on my left eye was quite a bit a lot askew, so I thought that I have to correct that. I could have gone about it differently, but I did what I thought was the best in my opinion."

He couldn't wait to the moment when he would lay her on a stretcher and could leave. It was still a bit funny what she was saying, but it was bordering with slightly insane and hysterical and the damn tuxedo was constricting him and he wanted to tear it off and preferably go for a run naked around the whole facility. It's not like anyone would notice anyway. Best before Wanda noticed him and started fussing over him again.

Truth to be told, he never thought he would be this happy and relieved to see medical floor ever again.

"So I took scissors and tried to even them out, but my hand slipped and I cut off my own lashes and I went to the prom looking like a clipped cow that doesn't know how to use glue." She huffed, clutching the figurine close to her chest. "But who could have known that glue was so damn sticky?"

"Well," Pietro said walking to an empty doctor station. "Apparently you don't." He laid her on a stretcher in the middle of the room and reached over to push a big yellow button that would call the doctor.

He was walking to the door to leave when a distraught voice stopped him.

"Wait!" The bride shouted at him, struggling to take a seat on the stretcher. "You can't just leave. I still don't have your rabies." She pouted, widening her eyes.

Pietro shook his head. "Maybe next time, sweetheart. I still got plenty of them left." He told her smirking, running hands through his hair that was in disarray from when she was playing with it.

Just when he was in the doorway from where he could see a doctor with two nurses rushing in, a sniffle echoed through the room. Pietro supressed a wince, hesitant to turn around to prove his suspicion that she was crying again.

"Is it become I'm not young and sweet?" She wailed loudly behind him. Something hit his turned back and then it fell on the floor. Pietro looked down and saw the figurine that she had in her hands, now laying on the floor with the groom's hand partially missing now.

He turned to look at the crying mess on the stretcher.

Now he couldn't help but to wince. She was a sight that was sure. Wild hair, run down make up, huge frilly dress that still stuck to her upper body like a glove, the figure held loosely in her left hand and crying her eyes out. Pietro felt something akin to pity in his chest.

With a reasoning that she could be someone's sister, and Pietro would kill anyone that would make Wanda cry, he trudged back to her, dragging a nearby chair with him. When he reached the stretcher, he plopped down on the chair and leaned back, but not before tugging of the jacket and draping it over the back of the chair.

"Are we going to make bunnies?" Bernice watched with half hooded eyes the movement of his nimble fingers popping the button of his vest coat open.

Thankfully he was saved from answering by the medical personnel that came into the room.

He pushed the chair back to a wall, staying put in fear that she was going to start wailing the second he stood up.

…

"So, how's Miss Rainbow doing? Already carrying your bunnies?" A voice joined him when he was walking from a briefing, happily dressed in t-shirt and sweats.

Pietro glanced at the archer on his right. "News travel fast around this place. Seems like I have a competition."

Barton chuckled. "I wouldn't say that." He told him, shaking his head. "Never seen anyone run faster naked than you."

Pietro raised an eyebrow at him, a corner of his mouth lifting. "Enjoyed the show?"

Barton shook his head again. "Not me. But the ladies in the control room did. Took the time to calibrate the cameras and look through the records to appreciate your level of fitness."

Pietro smiled. "Well I'm sure that you enjoyed it very much." He told the archer.

"What are you even talking about."

"You know, for someone who makes his living by lying, I would have thought you would do a better job at that." Pietro told him jokingly. "What are you still doing here anyway? Thought you would be back home now."

The archer shrugged his shoulders. "I offered to train these two newbies that keep getting on my nerves. They are related I think. One has silver hair and is really annoying. " Pietro gave him a look rounding the corner when he froze in his tracks.

Clint bumped into him. "What are you…" He trailed off, his eyes stopping at the sight that met his eyes. He gave Pietro a clap on his shoulder. "Well buddy, if anyone asks, I wasn't here when it happened." With a wave over his shoulder Clint left, leaving Pietro facing his twin that had an angry expression on her face.

"Can I go as well?" Pietro asked sheepishly watching as his twin sister walked closer to him. It made him think that he should have probably told her that he was going on a mission himself. But the deed is done and there is nothing he can do about it now.

"You are not going anywhere." She hissed at him, a faint red hue appearing around her fingers.

Pietro raised his hands in a calming manner. "Look I know I should have told you that I was going on a mission, but if I did, would you have let me go there?" He asked her.

Wanda didn't hesitate a second. "No I wouldn't. And I probably won't for another 10 years. What were you thinking?"

"I going crazy around here. I couldn't stay coped in these walls anymore. I felt caged in and I had to go out. Believe me when I say that I am not that reckless to go to a mission that could be dangerous without telling you." He told her sincerely, gently taking her hands into his, cradling them.

"No you're right." She told him quietly and Pietro watched as the red was slowly fading away. "You are way more reckless and stupid. Don't you ever think about going somewhere without telling me first." She hissed at him, but left her hands in his.

Pietro rolled his eyes at her good-naturally. "Wouldn't dream about it baby sister." At his quip about her being younger by 12 minutes, Wanda's eyes softened.

"Let's go to eat something. I'm starving." He told her and they started walking towards a cafeteria. All that talk about radishes and cake left him feeling hungrier than usual.

"So," Wanda started conversationally as they were walking. "What is it that I hear about becoming an aunt?" She asked him, looking at her twin from corner of her eye.

"That got to you already?" Pietro mumbled, his stormy eyes spotting wide double doors leading to cafeteria. "Some radish-hating would-be-bride with saviour's complex when it comes to snails wants me to father her bunnies. That not the weirdest proposal that I heard."

"Sounds like you had fun on the mission." Wanda commented casually, entering the cafeteria. Her jade green eyes scanned the room quickly, noticing that it was almost empty. She knew her brother the best, like no one else knew him on the whole world. Knew that he got bored quickly, has short temper and attention span of six year old child. Though he wasn't like that with her, attuned to her presence, he got quickly bored and flighty with people that couldn't keep up with him.

"Yes it was." He said, piling his tray high, sampling almost everything in the path.

"And what about you, sister?" He asked her, waiting for her to finish filling her plate.

"What about me?" She asked him absent-mindedly looking through the fruit section. She had a thing about picking about perfectly red apples with no blemishes on them.

"You and that red guy.." He started. Wanda's hand hesitated above one apple that she picked in her mind. "Any children that I should know about? Because I won't see _that_ coming for sure." He snickered at what he said.

But it seemed that Wanda didn't find it so funny and as an evidence of her displeasure, she flicked her wrist letting an apple hit her brother into forehead.

"Ouch. What was that for? I'm still recovering you know." He told, rubbing the spot where the apple bounced off.

"Really, now?" She asked with a fake surprise etched on her face.

"I thought it was funny." He told her in his defence as they sat next to a table that was in the far end of the cafeteria. "Because his name is Vision? So that's why?" He asked, eyes searching her face.

He sighed in disappointment at her expression. "I get it, it wasn't that funny."

Pietro waited a minute as they started eating.

"But I bet," he said around a mouthful of spaghetti, "that he know who is going to _come_."

He would have laughed if it wasn't for the plate of pasta in his face.

...

"Maximoff, you are needed at the medical." A guard told the sleeping wonder twin cautiously. Pietro grunted and turned on other side, throwing an arm over his face.

The guard shuffled and cursed himself for being the one to wake him up. Though having been here only a few weeks, with only one of them after having been released from the medical, everyone in the whole facility knew that the silver haired speedster had an uncanny ability to fall asleep anywhere, anytime usually in weird places and positions. And that waking him up was best left to his equally freaky twin.

Taking a plastic baton in hand, he carefully poked Pietro in the shoulder. "Maximoff, wake up."

Pietro let out a slow grumble, muffled by his arm.

The guard took it as a good sign that the Avenger was waking up and continued. "That lady that you brought in-"

"Attention all personnel. Unknown gifted individual located in the med bay, room 351. Code Violet. Threat uncategorized."

"-just woke up." The guard wasn't even sure that Pietro opened his eyes under mass of silver hait that was falling into his face when he was gone in a flash.

Out of many peculiar wake up calls, this one almost made it to the top.

Arriving at the medical room, Pietro had to stand on his tiptoes to see over the swarm of heavily armoured agents with their weapons trained at the bride still clad in her dress and a gun in her hand. He raised an eyebrow at the weapon and turned to an agent closest to him.

"Madam, put the gun down." Steve told the lady in an authorative voice. Pietro perked up when he head him and only then realized that the Captain was closest to the girl, with one hand outstretched in front of him in a placating manner, the other wrapped around his shield.

"A what now?" Bernice asked him with a dumbfounded expression on her face before lifting the hand with a gun on front of her face. Eyes widening at the sight, she shrieked, dropping the weapon in a millisecond, the gun clattering to the floor next to few radishes that only now Pietro noticed.

And of course, why not, the gun fell at the exact angle that it somehow shot. Steve reacted immediately, his shield catching the bullet mid-air. Pietro would have gotten it sooner of course, but he was too entranced by the show in front of him that he didn't really care.

Steve's eyes flashed, putting shield in other hand. "Madam,.." He started, his voice strong.

But Bernice had none of it. "Put that Frisbee away or God help me I swear I'll take it from you." She told him in a high-pitched voice, shaking finger pointing at the shield.

"Clint." Steve said quietly and Pietro would have noticed a small dart sailing though the air if he wasn't so busy watching a strange flickering in the air. It looked a lot like the waves in the air above a campfire or roof of cars when there is a heat wave.

With the dart finding it's way into Bernice neck, the unlucky girl swayed on spot and fell into Pietro's arms after a few seconds. No way that he was letting Steve get to her first.

"So… what happened?" He asked quietly, adjusting her weight in his arms.

"Take her to the containment room, just to be sure." He told him and then turned to address the agents. "And you take radishes of her meal menu, immediately."

.

.

.

Hello, wassup say hello.. I think the lyrics go something like that. Oh well, here is chapter for you. That means you, you lucky fellow. And just to be safe and sound here is a disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to Marvel. Yay me.

Reviews make radishes grow and bunnies to reproduce.


End file.
